


Shooter

by boychic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A Pinch of Angst, Adoption, Blackwatch Era, Dad Reaper, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Childhood Trauma, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Multi, Origin Story, Original Character(s), Team as Family, characters to be added as they appear, delayed ship tagging, i just want them to be a surprise!, now with chatlogs and pictures!, the life and times of our favorite scoundrel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-09-09 18:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8906959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boychic/pseuds/boychic
Summary: Jesse thought what would happen if he accepted the deal was obvious: Overwatch would plaster his smiling face on some posters for their youth offender program, have him star in a PSA or two about avoiding gangs and then he could go home. After all, he was born to shoot and eek out a living somewhere with red dirt and a desert sun.
Like usual, he was dead wrong.





	1. Pinned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, as usual this work is un-beta'd and subject to adjustment - I always did love a living work.
> 
> I'm sure the tense will be weird, but if I don't get this thing out of Word now I might never put it out there at all. I'm planning on something big: to carry this through to the Recall! I will need lots of encouragement, and constructive criticism can only help!
> 
> UPDATE: I've added an image, and I plan to add more! I've decided Shooter needs a little color. Living work indeed. Summary updated as well!

Jesse regretted agreeing to join as soon as the deal was done. He was hauled out of the interrogation room fast enough to make his head spin, two low-level operatives ‘escorting’ him to his temporary lodgings hard enough to leave bruises up and down his arms.

After roughing him up they left him in a sliver of a room, barely large enough for him to walk around in. It was empty, save for the slab-like metal frame for a twin-size murphy bed he pulled down to sit on. Seemed like the room had never seen a drop of dirt, and the too-bright lights and all-white floors and ceiling made it hard for him to keep his eyes open. Even if he hadn’t been in a dim interrogation room for the last full day it would have been too much. His eyes adjust to the light after some time but he doesn’t – too much had happened, and way too damn fast.

Distracting himself seemed like a better option than sitting and rubbing his bruises. He tries to fiddle with the access scanner at the door, but it refuses to acknowledge input or slide home. Fair enough – he didn’t expect them to let him have any sort of freedom any time soon after what he’d pulled. They’d picked him up two days ago in Deadlock Gorge. The job was supposed to be a simple one, pushing a payload with a score of other Deadlock runners. It was a big deal but not his first run of the sort. Despite getting caught he was proud: He'd managed to get a shot into the leg of one of the Overwatch operatives, and graze a couple more. He’d put up a fight even after they cornered him in the propane shop but Trouble was an old gun. When she jammed up, she jammed up bad.

He’d been shipped out to Grand Mesa that night for an interrogation that felt like it had lasted a lifetime. He hadn’t budged at first. Prison didn’t seem like the worst he could do. He’d have a better bed and better food than he’d ever had on the outside. Plus, Deadlock regularly pulled out their own. They were always big heists that bolstered their numbers. In any case, there was no going back to the Gorge – Overwatch knew too much about him, how he fought, and what he looked like. The sort of intel that could get him killed if he gave them long enough to plan. That, and he'd already let slip a few trade secrets the gang wouldn't appreciate being shared. Instead of taking his chances he took the deal Reyes offered. Besides: If any organization had the resources to protect him from the wrath of Deadlock, it would be Overwatch.

Still, his position here seemed like it would be shaky at best if Reyes was the only one who wanted him around. If the bruises on his arms were any sign, he wouldn’t be making many friends any time soon.

For lack of anything to do he paces for a few minutes, thinking. They’d have to give him a new gun, right? Maybe even armor and a little pocket money. It couldn’t all be so bad if he could pad his pockets a little. He was dead tired, but the bedframe didn’t look too comfortable to lay on. Being holed up in such a small space put him ill at ease and hard metal at his back would hardly help him relax long enough to sleep. He was hungry, thirsty, and covered in red dust from the Gorge.

After what felt like hours he started to kick at the door, aiming to make as much noise as is possible. It was late – 11:46 PM on the access scanner and he doubted the noise would go unnoticed. The motion shook loose a spur from his ratty boot, but he didn’t care. He’d probably be getting a new pair anyways, if they were going to be paying him.

The moment he stopped and turned to go sit on the bedframe the door slid open. Gabriel Reyes's figure crowded the doorframe, an imposing figure in black. The hall at his back was dimly lit, all grey and chrome.

“Missed me?” Jesse cracked a smile, hoping for a reaction.

“Not a chance in hell, punk.” He doesn’t miss a beat but there’s no bite to it. Some dark clothes are folded over one of the man’s arm and he cradles a box of saltines in the crook of his arm. Jesse stands up straighter, looking the man over in the light. If it weren’t for the deep scars crisscrossing his face, he might not have looked intimidating at all.

“Reckon we’re gonna be seein’ a lot of each other, huh?” Jesse says. He had hoped that Reyes was the sort of higher-up that wouldn’t hang around- just delegate handling him to someone else - but he had no such luck. He’d just spent the better part of a day being interrogated and then lectured by the guy and his cronies, and now he was expected to spend even more time with him. A damned shame. Reyes may not have roughed him up personally but those were his people.

“Damn right.” A pause, while he scratched at his goatee. “Here's the deal: What we’re doing here is unprecedented. Overwatch has no juvenile combat operative or youth rehabilitation program in place. Since I recruited you, I’m required to arrange for your care.” The man crowded into the room, placing the bundle of clothes and saltines on the lowered bedframe. His approach left little space for Jesse. Being trapped always made him feel a little panicky. That, and it hadn’t been more than two days since the last time he’d been penned into a corner and tazed so hard he thought he might piss himself. “In other words, I’m your h- hn.” Gabriel stopped speaking mid-sentence to glower at Jesse. If looks could kill, he’d be a goner. Reyes put another foot in his direction and the boy scrambled back on instinct. Not that there was much space for him to retreat into, his back hitting the wall. The man’s sudden change in demeanor was unnerving, driving him back on instinct.

“Hold up.” He throws his hands up in protest.

“… You didn’t come in with these.” His trepidation did little to deter Reyes, who grabbed his wrists and pulled both arms into the light, giving them an extended look over. It felt like he couldn't breathe again.

“Gabriel! What are you doing to the poor boy?” Confusion flashed across Reyes's features for a moment as a woman called over his shoulder. He let go when she crowded into the room with them, peering over Gabriel's shoulder at him. 

“Kid’s got marks he didn’t come in with.” The man grumbled. Didn't sound like he was too happy with his subordinates.

“No wonder he’s scared. Don’t be rude, Gabriel. Give the boy some space.” The woman chides, tugging Reyes back by his hood. It lseemed like he got the hint and backed off. Jesse relaxes the tiniest bit, pulling his arms back toward his body and rolling a sore shoulder. “Have you ever taken care of a child before?” Gabriel grunts – a no.

“I’m not a-“ Jesse interjects, but is cut off fast.

“Exactly what a child would say.” That smarted. “I can take care of his injuries. Who did you have admit him?”

“Collins and Alvarez.” The man purses his lips, in thought. “I’ll make sure they regret it.” Gabriel backs up and offers a hand. Jesse looks at it warily and only takes it after a beat, pulling up to his feet. The woman gave Jesse a curt nod while Gabriel moved off to the side. She had long, dark hair and a gentle smile that reminded him of someone else. Someone he tried to put out of his mind – he hadn’t really thought about her in years.

“Ana Amari. It is nice to meet you, Jesse. I'm glad you've agreed to join us.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am.” He tipped his hat.

“Isn’t he charming!” She claps her hands together, pleased. “That will take you far in life. Further than a rusty revolver and a gang.” She winks. Her smug look wipes away any resemblance to other persons. That, and something strange about the way she tracked him with her eyes. He suspected she was the type who never missed a thing. “Don’t think manners will make me forget that you put good men in medical with that stunt of yours. Expect some people to be a little less friendly to you than most recruits.”

“Gotcha.” He rubbed at his bruises. Gabriel picked up and tossed the clothes he brought in to Jesse, who unfolds and inspects them. He inspects a pair of light grey sweats and a too-large navy hoodie. There is a Overwatch insignia on the front, and a patch with a name sewn into it reading "Morrison".

“If someone pull any shit more like this, let me know pronto. Get to safety and don’t try to handle it yourself.” Gabriel makes hard eye contact while he speaks, searching the boy’s face for understanding. Jesses nods, the slightest tilt of his head. Satisfied, Gabriel passes Jesse a comm kit as well. It's the old-school kind with a douchey hardlight visor. He puts the kit back down on the bedframe.

“Only the best for Overwatch agents, huh?” He jokes. Gabriel chuckles, the sound low and unexpected.

“Yeah. Hit the showers, kid.” Gabriel ducks out of the room and gestures for him to follow, ignoring the joke. Ana follows him out, and Jesse lingers in the doorway with his armful of clothes. “Toss the old duds. We’ll get you a mattress.” Gabriel adds. He follows Gabriel to the showers, but the man doesn’t stay. “Don’t get into any trouble. Towels are in the closet.”

He showers quickly- the water is too hot and shower too wide. Even alone, communal showers made him damned uncomfortable. There was always the thought that someone could get the jump on him and he’d be defenseless. Jesse redresses in the clothes given to him, tossing out most of what he was wearing before: vest, tattered bandana, dirt-stained slacks and boots. The hoodie is too large and smells like mothballs, but the sweats fit fine. He foregoes the sneakers, carrying them instead. That he would keep the Stetson was never in question– there was no way in hell they were taking it from him. He tucked it under his arm, and headed back to the room, a few scant yards of dark hallway from the shower.  
Amari is waiting for him when he returns from the showers. He’s feeling as refreshed as he can under the circumstances. Gabriel was nowhere to be found, but a mattress had been put down as promised. His comm kit sits, waiting along with the box of crackers.

“So there was a young man under all that dirt!” Jokes Ana, offering a cup of hot tea with one hand. She has her own cup. He can tell she’s trying to put him at ease, and it isn’t really working but he appreciates it. He doesn’t like tea, but he takes it and he finishes it fast. He was thirstier than he thought. The warmth of the tea spreads through his body, the healing properties pulsing through him slowly. His arms didn’t ache by the time he finished.

“Thanks much miss Amari. You got a hair band on you?” He used to borrow them off fellow Deadlocks, but now he'd have to find somebody else to mooch off of. His hair was well past his shoulders and he was thinking of a cut soon if he got the chance. Amari reaches into her pocket and pulls a small hairband out, a shimmery golden band with beads. It would do, just barely.  
  
“My daughter’s. Be sure to return it when you get your own.” He nods, taking the hairband and passing her the empty teacup. “You are welcome. Before I go, I must tell you: Your access card and communicator will have many limits in place. Trust that you will see more freedoms soon, but for now it is for your safety and ours that we take precautions.” He didn’t like it, but no sense dwelling on that. He fitted the comm links to his ears and activated the visor, testing it. He saw through the red tint of the display, able to check the time and some other basic functions. No net access yet, but Solitaire had already been installed. At least he could entertain himself a little. “You can contact Gabriel, myself, or medbay in case of an emergency. The mess hall is on the third floor, and you’ll be joining us at eight.” She said with an edge, extending something flat and white that he took and looked over. An identification card.

  
“Yes’m. I’ll be there bright ‘n’ early.” He made a mental note not to be late, but being punctual had never been his strong suit.

“Good! Rest well, Jesse. I'm sure you will need it.” With that she turned and left, closing the door behind her with a gentle smile. He tested the door after waiting by it for a full minute. Locked again. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed that he can’t sneak out. Scoping out the Watchpoint sounds like fun, but he figures he’ll have plenty of time to do that in the future. He settles on sitting on the bed, on top of the thick quilt left for him. He looks over the identification tag for lack of anything to do, running his thumb over the photo of himself. It'd been taken yesterday, and he hardly recognized himself so dirty and wild-eyed. The operatives present had to hold him down for the blurry shot. 

 

Other than the picture, it isn’t really interesting. He lets himself fall back onto the bed with a groan, disengaging the comm. He drops it and the ID on the floor beside the bed with a clatter. He can’t even bring himself to dig into the crackers despite his hunger. Keeping his eyes open is difficult, and the bed was the softest he had slept on in the longest time.

 

People might hate him here, but if all the beds were this soft then it was damn well worth staying.


	2. Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully i can keep the momentum going! I have big plans for Jesse, and I really appreciate feedback I've gotten so far. As usual: unbeta'd mess. Thank you for reading!

The sweet embrace of the quilt and soft mattress threatened to make him late but by the time seven-thirty rolled around he was up. Groggy and a touch sore, but awake. He put off showering – no way was he getting in there with everyone else. All he could do was comb through his hair best he could with his hands, slipping the borrowed hair tie around his wrist. He puts on his comm set, slips on the too-large sneakers Reyes left him, and wears his hat to breakfast. It didn’t really go with the hoodie and sweats, but the weight of it was comforting.

Jesse started his trek to the mess hall just before eight, having walked briskly and looked over his shoulders the entire time. The halls were wide, well-lit and clean. People he passed milling about in the halls seemed to ignore him save for a couple of strange looks. Probably the hat. The hat was only ever unremarkable to other southerners.

He was a little in awe of the place and its high ceilings, well maintained. It was nothing like the run down, abandoned motel he and twenty other Deadlocks squatted in. Less than three days ago he’d been a little unhappy with all the killing, but certain of his place in the world. Now he had been uprooted entirely, and uncertainty was hiding around every corner in Watchpoint: Grand Mesa.

What would a legit military operation look like? How soon would he be on the battlefield. Would he be fighting men, or ‘bots left over from the Crisis? Stopping other illegal weapons deals? He was so deep in thought that he almost ran into Reyes at the entrance of the mess hall. The man was waiting with a tray balanced in one hand and a stack of papers tucked under the other arm.

“Watch your step, kid. We’re going to eat in my office. Amari will join up later.” As much as he didn’t want to hang out with Reyes, that sounded like a much better idea. The man looked him over and sighed. “I see you held onto the hat.”

“Hat goes where I go, pardner.” Gabriel shrugged in response and lead on to his office, a stone’s throw away from the mess hall. The office looked more like a classroom than anything, raised tables lined up neatly in front of the screens lined the walls. Most of them were covered with clutter: Books, schematics, loose papers, and oddities like a sewing machine and peels of cloth. His desk was back and center, slightly raised. A large window behind the desk exposed forests and mountains spread further than he’d ever seen from this high up. Only the desk had been wiped clean of clutter so they both had a place to eat, Gabriel’s tray already sitting in front of his obscenely large chair.

“Pardon the mess.” Jesse shrugged in reply, taking his seat in front of the desk. He looked over his breakfast while Gabriel flipped through his papers. It was like the whole food pyramid had been unloaded onto his plate: steamed broccoli, soft bread, a strip of salmon and an apple. Hardly breakfast food, but it was probably way better for him than anything he’d had at any meal in a long while. The box of grape juice colorfully labelled ‘For Kids!’ would have irritated him more if he didn’t love the stuff. Gabriel’s plate looked the same, only he had a glass of orange juice. The two of them ate in silence, the save for the occasional shuffling of papers. Jesse grew bored fast. He eyed Gabriel: The man wasn’t wearing the beanie, dark and damp hair hanging in his face. The sides were shaved.

“Where can I get me a hair cut?” He asked. Gabriel peered at him from under his eyebrows, clearly unhappy about being interrupted.

“I’ll take care of it.” Jesse wasn’t sure if that meant Gabriel would cut his hair himself, or get someone to do it for him. He hoped it was the latter. Gabriel turned his attention back to the papers, only to be interrupted again.

“What is all that?” It wasn’t a thin pile of papers.

“You.” He grunted, doggy-earing a page putting the stack to the side. “Admittance papers. You made a lot of work for me.”

“Hey, you offered. I’m jus’ along for the ride.”

“Right.” And then, almost thoughtfully. “Work with me here, kid. You got folks?”

“Don’t you lot run background checks?”

“Didn’t pull as much information as I wanted.” Meaning: they couldn’t find _anything_ important. “From the looks of it, you just rose out of the dust three or four years ago. Gun in hand, ready to work for your keep.” Gabriel’s description made him imagine himself rising out of the dirt like Venus from the ocean. It isn’t a funny enough thought to share.

“Yessiree.” Jesse made sure to slurp on his juice box as loudly as he could. The effect clearly wasn’t lost on Reyes. “Don’t got no kin.” Gabriel sighed again.

“I don’t buy it, but I don’t have the time to investigate. Not right now.” He pushed his spent tray to the side, thrumming his fingers on the table. “You don’t have a legal guardian, and the state might take months to approve a minor training with a military org. I’ll have to push for an emergency guardianship form to get you into next month’s training class.” Jesse snorts so hard that grape juice dribbles out of his nose.

"What in the hell?” He wipes his face with his sleeve. Just when he thought things couldn’t possibly get worse. “You tellin’ me I’m gettin'  _adopted_? Don’t I get a say?” Gabriel clearly appreciated the reaction, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head.

“Yeah, if you suddenly remember an uncle who can sign for you… _son_.” Jesse wanted to wipe that smug smile off of Gabriel’s face. He made no effort to hide his grimace.

“Fuck you! I ain’t agree to nothin’ like this.” He bristled, slamming his hands on the desk and standing up. Jesse’s fingers were just itching for Trouble.

“Watch your damn mouth. Ingrate.” Gabriel stands up fast enough to send his chair rolling backwards to thump against the window and exhales hard, nostrils flaring. He throws a hand up in frustration and pinches his brow with the other. At the end of a long and hard exhale, he spoke again. “Look. Sorry, kid. That wasn’t funny. It’s not like I’m changing your name or letting you _anywhere_ near my penthouse.” The shock of it all doesn’t wear off entirely but Jesse drops back into his chair, defeated.

“I ain’t never gon’ call you my dad.”

“Wasn’t gonna ask. This is a legal necessity. Our relationship is strictly professional.” A beat. “Look. I need you out of my hair and en route Switzerland after this meal.” He wasn’t pulling any punches.

“Fuckin' _Switzerland_? I don't even speak Swiss.” This was too damn much. “ Why the rush?”

“'Swiss' isn't a la... Nevermind that. Did you forget? You shot _three_ Overwatch operatives. All stabilized, but none of them are happy about it. The Strike Commander is due to be released from medbay in three hours. You just might see prison if Morrison sees your mug. Best to get you out of the way.”

“Strike Commander?” _Oh_. No wonder people were pissed. Grunts getting shot was bad enough, but apparently he'd grazed a big dog. “You tellin’ me I almost took out _the_ head honcho wit’ my rusty li'l peashooter?” He couldn’t control the grin that spread across his face. _Finally_ , some good news. Gabriel shot him a hard look but it didn’t have an effect.

“Not everyone is as impressed as I am.” Jesse whistles. It’s his turn to jeer. The door clicks open behind them, and Jesse looks over his shoulder. Ana ambles into the room, wearing black and orange Overwatch standards. One last shot at Gabriel – that’s all he needed to feel a little better.

“You’re innit. I reckon the boss is gonna be up yer ass. You must _really_ hate this fella to pull a stunt like this.” That does it. Gabriel huffs and turns his back to him.

“Hush.” A hand clamps down on his shoulder, and he recoils from it instinctively. Ana pulls her hand back and makes a show of giving him a wide berth. “Ah, I forgot. I apologize.” Jesse doubted she really had, but only shrugged in reply.

“Ugh. Just take him.” Gabriel looks at Ana over his shoulder, arms akimbo. His tone of voice is hard, controlled. All command. “Now, please.”

Jesse follows Ana out of the office wordlessly. It seems like neither of them are really in the mood to talk. They collect the items from his room: blanket, pillow, ID. About as much as he ever owned, minus the gun. She leads him to the hangar, and then through to the tarmac where they boarded an airship. It was the largest he’d ever seen, the kind of airship they dropped shock troops from in the holovids. He was certain it was the same one that cast an ominous shadow over Big Earl’s while he waited for his signal to move just a few days prior.

Seemed pretty fitting that it would be the ship to take him from everything he’d ever known.


	3. Lift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Updated to include the new chatlog style! Some mobile readers may or may not want to Hide the Creator's style up top, but it looks fine on most screens and shouldn't impede your reading experience. I thought it would be nice to add a little personality to some chapters!
> 
> Initially I wasn't going to do much in the way of shipping for a long time, but am a weak person. I feel like adding ship tags for McCree is jumping the gun/spoilery, so for the time being they will appear as needed.

 

The door to his office is kicked in so hard Gabriel is surprised to see it still on its hinges. Jack seethes in the doorway, shoulders squared and fists clenched. If he were anyone else Gabriel would be out of a job by now. He’d have been out of a job ten times over. Gabriel Reyes was a damn good tactician, an effective leader and fighter, but made a piss-poor subordinate. Morrison occasionally made sure he knew as much, and today seemed like it would be one of those days. 

“Deadlock scum shoots your commanding officer and you decide to invite him to join Overwatch?” Jack's hair was mussed and his turtleneck hadn’t been ironed – this must’ve been his first stop after leaving medbay. Jack slams the already-abused door behind him and marches up to the desk, favoring one leg.

“It’s as good as done, Jack.” Behind him, the sun had almost finished setting. The lights in the room hummed gently as their brightness shifted to cool, artificial light.

“That call is mine and you know it.” Gabriel stood from his chair and offered a holotablet to the other man. Jack doesn’t even look down at it, eyes fixed on Gabriel’s face as if he could discern Gabriel’s motives if he stared hard enough. “You better have a damn good explanation for this, soldier.” If he was 'soldier' now, this was a serious reaction. He'd expected as much.

“This isn’t just off the cuff.” He almost thinks better of telling him, but if any agent was privy to Blackwatch operations it would be Jack. “I’ve seen the kid’s handiwork before.”

“In that case, he should be tried.” Gabriel waved the tablet impatiently, and Jack snatched it away with a huff. The tablet displayed photos of confiscated weapons, interrogation logs, and results from an early background check. Gabriel watched the video with Jack: It is blurry footage, taken in the dark parking lot of a Waffle House. In it four people converged around one figure in a too-large hat, backing him up against a truck. Light glowed around the boy's body and moments later the four figures surrounding him stumble and fall at once. “How long have you had this?”

“Got the footage about a month ago. Now we have ID.” Jack furrowed his brows and restarted the video a few times. Gabriel continued on. “He’s got _abilities_ , Jack. Something that could turn the tide of a battle. I don’t know if its cybernetics, genetic engineering, or hell... magic. That kid has something that we want in reach.”

“And you think it’s a good idea to bring that _weapon_ home? Who knows how high his body count is.” He watched Jack thumb through the files, lips pursed. “You can’t even pull a full background check.”

“He’s not a weapon, Jack. He’s just a child” He crossed his arms and fixed Jack with a hard look. “Give me some credit. Young recruits and runaways are Deadlock’s modus operandi. There’s nothing to pull.” Jack grunted in understanding, kicking a boot against the tile.

“You really think you can get something useful out of this kid.” It is more statement than question, like Jack is working through the idea aloud. Gabriel nodded, locking eyes with Jack.

“Wouldn’t bother if I didn’t think so.” Then he adds “Besides, you have a protégé. It’s my turn to spin straw into gold.” Jack laughs, a short bark that neither of them expect. It’s a noise that breaks the tension and leaves Jack looking almost pleased- but only for the breadth of a moment.

“I’ll allow it, Gabriel. I don’t like this, but I’ll allow it.” Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, casting a glance at the intake papers spread accross Gabriel's desk. “I expect a full combat profile, and for your agents to figure out this… glowing business. Where is he right now?”

“En route to headquarters with Ana.” Gabriel says with a smirk, collecting the tablet and offering Jack a folder.

“Of course he is.” Jack doesn't even look surprised - just tired, very tired. Jack took the folder and looked it over - more intake papers, special admittance forms, and all the information they had on their newest recruit. Jack sighed deeply while looking at the folder. Another late night.

“Chin up.” Gabriel steps around the desk and claps a hand down on his shoulder. Jack tensed for just a moment, then let himself relax under Gabriel's touch. It doesn’t escape Gabriel’s notice. "I'll help you with the workload."

“Fine… I’m surprised Ana took your side, actually. What did you say to her?” Gabriel doesn’t miss the forced casualness either.

“I told her he reminded me of myself. A brat with a bad attitude someone took a chance on.”

“Bah. I think she’s just got a soft spot for kids. Criminal or not.” Gabriel shrugs. Jack tucked the folder under his arm and turned to leave. He made it halfway across the room before he turned back and called over his shoulder. “Dinner tonight?” It was a bad idea. Going was always a bad idea, but Gabriel doesn't waste any time giving an answer.

"I’ll bite. As long as it’s not Italian again.”

 

* * *

Jesse wasn’t afraid of heights, but this was the second time he’d been on air transport and he couldn’t see himself getting used to the lurch and noise of a vessel like this. The airship was done up in the same slick chrome as the Watchpoint, with few black and yellow-gold accents. The seats weren’t meant to provide much comfort, and he felt it in his shoulders after an hour or so. He sat facing a row of Overwatch agents, rank-and-file who look bone tired and were covered in red dust that showed even over the black uniforms. Must’ve just finished up in the Gorge, and he doubted people were keeping news of the Strike Commander's injury or their new recruit a secret. They avoided eye contact with him, for the most part. Amari was strapped in beside him, occupied with her comm set. She has a more sophisticated version than his with two hardlight panels and a screen – costly tech he’d only seen once or twice in person. He was curious about them, sure, but not curious enough to interrupt her.

He was halfway to dozing off when his communicator hummed to life, red heads up display stretching over his eyes. Apparently it turned on when the wearer got a message, something he'd have to turn off in the settings. He thought to ignore the message after seeing the sender, but Ana had already taken notice. Using a hardlight keyboard was new to him, but intuitive.

 

 

 

 

[McCree] received 1 message From [Reyes]

[Reyes]: Hey, kid. Sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.

[McCree]: dont worry none,i guess?i was bein a shit

 

[Reyes]: I shouldn’t have risen to it.

[Reyes]: Anyway… I’ll join you at headquarters in two weeks. Gotta take care of things stateside so things go smoothly for you.

[Reyes]: Ana will be looking out for you, but try to keep your nose clean. No smoking, no drinking, no guns unless a superior puts one in your hand.

[McCree]: so dont do anythin fun or interestin at all huh??

[Reyes]: This is where most people would say “Thanks for the free ride”, but we’ll work on that.

[Reyes]: Don’t get too used to the room. You’ll move into the barracks the day training starts.

[McCree]: alrighty then.ill be seein ya

[Reyes]: Get some rest before you get there. You have a lot to do in Zurich.

 

 

Jesse cut the visor off, missing any more messages he may have gotten from Gabriel. Instead, he turned towards Ana, who had been watching him expectantly.

"Reyes says I get my own room?” He asks. Ana nods curtly. The hardlight panels she was working on flicker and blink out of sight.

“Supposedly a temporary arrangement, but if you behave I will convince Gabriel of that you deserve some privacy.” She winks, calling attention to the eye with the tattoo.

“Why’re you so nice to me?” He questions, lifting his chin. “You’re a helluva lot nicer to me than Reyes is. He jus’ apologized for bein’ an ass but I still don’ know if we’re gonna get on.”

“Gabriel is nice to people who respect him. Show him that you are grateful and he will be an excellent mentor to you.” She pulls up her comm system and seems to be searching for something for just a moment, lifting her hand high when she finds it. A hologram hovers there, a still image of a little girl. Right, the whose hairband he'd need to return later. “My Fareeha isn’t much younger than you.” He leans forward and takes a look.

“She in Switzerland?”

“Yes. Maybe soon you will meet her. I think the two of you will make good friends- she doesn’t meet many people near her age.” Sounded like he was getting volunteered for babysitting. He hardly had a moment to think about it before she spoke up again. “How much do you know of Overwatch, Jesse?” He mulled it over for a second, slipping his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“I know y’all stopped the crisis a few years back. Gabriel was the head honcho during the war and did a mighty fine job, but now some gringo runs the show.” That pulled a snicker from Ana and Jesse felt proud, but he wasn’t done. “Now y’all rescue cats from trees and bust small-timers doin’ weapons deals, ‘parently.”

“Small time, hm?” Ana shook her head, tossing some long, dark strands that weren't trapped under her beret. “You _must_ know this was more than weapons trafficking.” He scratched at his chin, looking down at his feet.

“... Supposed t’ be somebody else’s prollem, so long as I got money for whiskey and ‘munitions.” He answered sheepishly, focusing on the padded floor of the aircraft.

“Someone else always pays.” She murmured, a touch wistfully. “What were you doing out there, Jesse? Who taught you to shoot?” He sighed and thumbed at his nose.

“All due respect miss Amari… what kind of story are you wantin’ to hear? You know just as good as me that it won’t be a nice one. Not for you t’ hear, and not for me to tell.” He pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes and let his head fall against the back of his seat. There came a thoughtful “hm” from her and nothing else. The silence stretched on so long that he let his eyes fall shut and focused on his breathing instead.

“I hope to hear it someday, when you are ready to talk about it.”

“…Maybe.” He mumbled, suddenly aware of how drowsy he was. His eyes felt heavy and all he wanted to do was shield them from the light with the brim of his hat.

If she said anything else to him in the airship, he surely missed it.


	4. Profile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter should have been two, but it got away from me and I feel like it should all stay together. I'm on a roll this week, woo!
> 
> also i dont know anything about military ranks, fml

All around the world, there were statues dedicated a man he’d shot in the knee last week. Decorated war hero Gabriel Reyes was, legally, his dad. Veteran sniper Ana Amari was currently giving him a tour of the Watchpoint at Zurich, walking briskly and throwing information about the facilities at him fast. Many of the people he’d just joined on with had celebrity status, and were immeasurably talented. Still, that he was walking amongst giants didn’t truly hit home until Jesse met Reinhardt Wilhelm. _The_ Reinhardt Wilhelm, a nearly 8-foot wall of a man that blocked the hallway Ana had been leading him down. They were on the last leg of their tour – engineering was the only section of headquarters they hadn’t yet covered, but they had met with an obstacle that had the biggest hand he’d ever seen clamped down on his shoulder. He tolerated it, but only because it was a little hard to think of anything but how _huge_ the guy was.

“Welcome to Overwatch, young man!” The larger-than-life man had a larger-than-life voice. Seemed like he shouted just about everything. “I hear this is a new beginning for you. I wish you much luck!” Reinhardt winks, favoring the all-white eye under his scar.

“Thank ya kindly, sir.” There was no matching Reinhardt’s enthusiasm, but he felt like the least he could do was be polite. He tipped his hat and Reinhardt beamed down at him. He and Ana talked for a while after that, but Jesse didn’t pay much attention to what was being said. He was still distracted by the fact that one of the Crusaders was here at all, watching the man’s face. Reinhardt was a little greyer than he was in the holovids, sure, but there was no mistaking him for anyone else. Jesse thinks he might grow a beard like Reinhardt’s someday if his ever grew fuller.

“I must be off!” Reinhardt announces, and Jesse follows when Ana leans into the wall to let Reinhardt pass. He watched the man go, mentally kicking himself for not asking for an autograph.

“Are you a fan, Jesse?” Ana gave him a knowing look, lines crinkling at the edge of her eyes.

“He’s, uh…” Clamming up, opting to scratch at the patchy hair on his chin for a moment. “Real big? Huge fella.”

“Starstruck, hm?” She looked _so_ smug that he doesn’t even bother fighting her on it.

The rest of the tour was short. He met a small man with an impressive beard and a claw for a hand in the Engineering building, but doesn’t bother to remember his name since this would probably be the first and last time they’d ever meet. There was no reason for him to cozy up to engineers or climatologists. The brisk tour of the campus Ana was giving him mostly consisted of state-of-the-art education and scientific facilities, things he didn’t know or care anything about.

What would happen here was clear enough: He’d be a fresh, brown face to spearhead their flagship youth offender program. Plaster his smiling face on some posters, have him sit in on a PSA or two about avoiding gangs, and have him save a few cats from trees. He wasn’t going to discover some talent for engineering, or become a medical assistant. He was born to shoot and eek out a life somewhere with red dirt and a desert sun. After a year or two they’d probably dump him, and he’d go… somewhere. Probably not the Gorge, but maybe he could start his own operation up in El Paso or even Alpharetta. If Overwatch taught him anything useful he could make things run smoothly.

Headquarters was more like a city than a base, with high towers connected by skywalks. Most buildings were done up in chrome plating with glowing golden accents, and electric gates secured the perimeters. The glowing golden hardlight fences were massive, the sort of ‘impassible’ structure that he took as a challenge. Ana took her sweet time explaining how secure the check points were, and how painful getting zapped could be. The fortress sat with its back to the Swiss alps, and he had a good view of some mountain with a name he couldn’t pronounce and wouldn’t bother with.

“Feel free to pass through any door that will open for you.” Ana hung around while he ate in the cafeteria, but bowed out and left him to his own devices after that. He walked himself back to his room, a map of the facilities tucked under his arm. His keycard turned out to open very few doors, but it did open the door to his new room, and gave him free reign of the recreation rooms and cafeteria. His new room was easily more than twice the size of the one he’d stayed in Grand Mesa, and he had a small bathroom to himself. He had bunk bed, but opted used the lower bunk to store his steadily-growing pile of junk while he slept up top. He had a credit chit now, and used the few dollars they set him up with to stock up on a variety pack of chips and soda at the canteen. Even if they wouldn’t sell him cigarettes it was still a pretty sweet deal.

He had humanity's finest resources right at his fingertips but all he _really_ wanted was a smoke. He’d considered relieving someone of their cigs but was wary of trying to pickpocket around Ana. He’d heard tell of snipers with modified eyes and would bet money on Ana being one of them.

He settled for splaying out on his new, soft bed and trying to relax. He spent the better part of that night watching holovids on his visor and eating pork rinds. It was stuff anyone could find: Overwatch recruitment videos, shaky footage of battles, and profiles of "heroes". Old photos of Ana, Reyes and Morrison, looking doctored and too-clean. They were all missing their greying temples and gentle creases of age. On every Overwatch-related site he visited, there were debates about the need for Overwatch after the crisis. He ran into some conspiracy theories about how Morrison’s promotion didn’t add up but closed out the tabs, mostly bored by the content. There were just as many threads about Gabriel's thighs, but he didn’t linger there either. Them being right didn’t mean he had to like it.

They had _fanclubs_ , and people dedicated blogs to them, built webpages and spent time writing essays about the marks someone like Jack Morrsion or Ana Amari had made on history. And yet, in person they were… actually pretty boring. The only thing that had differentiated Morrison from regular rank-and-file soldiers in the Gorge was his bright blue longcoat. Might as well have been wearing a shirt that read ‘Shoot me first’. He had no doubts about Ana being deadly and perceptive, but it was hard to see when she was patiently babysitting him. Reyes had all the swagger of a Deadlock member. Jesse could almost see him on a hoverbike in leather, but he was too _clean_ for it. He had the kind of idealism that the Gorge really beat out of a person. The guy obviously believed he, and Overwatch, could fix all the world’s issues by shaking hands and playing nice. Why else would he take in some punk kid?

Instead of focusing on it too hard he just put on _Cimarron_ and fell asleep halfway through.

* * *

On his second day at Headquarters, Jesse became the new owner of the gaudiest white-and-gold bodysuit he’d ever seen. It was left in a box beside his door with a printed agenda and a note from Ana instructing him to wear the bodysuit and be on time. He set those aside to rummage through the box and uncover some prizes: A poster of the Crusaders signed by Reinhardt, a theatrical poster for Gary Cooper’s _High Noon_ , a pair of flannel shirts, and a maroon bandanna. He put the posters up on the wall by his bunk, and then looked over the agenda: Orientation at noon, medical examination at two, entrance interview and combat profile at three-thirty.

Jesse took a long shower and changed into the bodysuit, tying the bandanna around his neck and straightening his hat in the mirror. He looked a fool in the jumpsuit, but at least they were letting him keep the hat. It wasn’t hard to find the right location, but he took a roundabout path that seemed less popular. He wasn’t quite used to amount of attention the hat drew. Back home it was like nothing to people.

He sat in a lecture hall with a huge screen, choosing a seat in a back corner the furthest away from his fellow recruits as he could. There were about thirty of them, and though he got some curious looks none of them bothered with him. The group was as diverse in age and nationality as he’d ever seen, but none of them were anywhere near his age. Jesse napped through several introductory videos and threw away most of the pamphlets they tried to load him up with. When that was over he got in line with the rest of the crowd and had a new photo taken for his badge– one where he _wasn’t_ being held down, thankfully.

From there he went to the examination room. He almost walked out in his paper gown when he met the doctor. She was tall for her age and wore the same bodysuit and lab coat combination as the other doctors he’d seen so far, but there was no hiding the fact that she was a teenager. Hell, she even had braces.

“Nuh-uh, naw, no damn way is this gonna go down.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You can’t be no older than me, miss.” She flipped through his chart, unbothered.

“We are the same age, yes, but I am a fully trained medical professional.” It sounded so practiced. This couldn’t have been the first time she’d heard it. She flashed him a smile, too-practiced. “Doctor Ziegler. A pleasure to meet you, Jesse.”

“Ain’t you a li’l young to be a doctor?” He looks at her hard from under his brows.

“Aren’t you a little young to be a soldier?” _Of course_ she’d be quick as a whip. He tossed his hands up lightly, beat.

“Fine, fine. Guess we’re jus’ prodigies.” She laughs behind her hand at that, but is all business a moment later. It doesn’t take long, and he answers her questions curtly. He gets an earful about smoking and underage drinking, and another stack of pamphlets to promptly throw out.  At the end of the session Jesse is given a slip with a date and time for a second appointment since one of her implements picked up on an abnormality in his eyes. He wasn’t looking forward to being poked and prodded about the eyes and answering more questions, but was grateful that he didn’t have to do it right then and there.

His visit with Doctor Ziegler had had it’s moments, but the interview was wholly unpleasant. He was closed into a room where a tired-looking man with a shaven head sat at table that was mostly taken up by recording equipment. The room itself was all dark metal, reminding him of the interrogation room he’d been in just days before. A shoddily concealed one-way mirror hung behind his interviewer.

“I’m agent Chance Howell. Please state your name for the record.” He kept a steady monotone.

“Jesse McCree.” Equally mirthless.

“Middle name?”

“Ain’t got one.” The man scoffed openly, eyes searching Jesse’s face.

"Are you certain that’s your real name?”

"What else would it be?” Howell changes the subject abruptly, looking down his nose at Jesse.

“Fine. Let’s start with some basics. Your file says you’re from Santa Fe and were a part of the Deadlock gang. There are no records indicating your level of education. How well can you read and write?” So _this_ was how things were going to go.

“I can read ‘n’ write jus’ fine. In English _or_ Spanish, thank you very much.” Jesse huffed, drumming his fingers against the table impatiently. And so went the interview: Painfully slow, with Howell picking apart his statements and a camera drone humming around him. He ended up swatting it away more than once. After what seemed like an hour, Howell declared the interview finished and delivered a final statement to the camera drone as if Jesse weren’t even in the room.

“In light of his crimes, questionable origins and a lack of aptitude for a position here it is my recommendation that Jesse McCree not be admitted into our ranks. He may pose a significant security risk, and there are far more deserving candidates who could take his place. However, Commander Reyes has issued an order that supersedes my authority, backed by Commander Amari and approved by Strike-Commander Morrison.” The man pauses, grimacing directly at Jesse. He leans back in his chair and grins so hard he’s nearly baring all his teeth. He foresaw that he’d have a lot of fun making things difficult for Howell in the future. “Commander Reyes assumes great personal risk, should this pet project fail. Jesse McCree is hereby granted the rank of recruit at restriction class F, and will begin his training with the next class.”

Howell plucks the drone from where it hovers in the air and shuts it into a briefcase, standing stiffly and ushering him out of the room. McCree follows with his arms crossed, only relaxing when Howell left him in a wide room with a few other recruits. A woman his height with slicked-back, dark hair and two prosthetic arms addressed the recruits gathered, introducing herself.

“Welcome, recruits. The name is Maliyah Williams. I’m glad to see so many of you have made it this far.” The group had halved, at least fifteen of the group from orientation missing. Made sense that a few of them would be picked off during the medical screening or interview. “I’ll be your trainer in two weeks. But right now I’m here to observe your fitness tests and help build combat profiles. This profile is how we identify your areas of weakness, determine your physical aptitude for certain operations, and track your progress. You will have one combat profile made a year."

There was a reason they had scheduled this session for last: It was an exhaustive series of tests in a massive obstacle course. Running, climbing, swimming, evasive maneuvers, combat rolls… Anything he could do, they had him do it. He didn’t feel like he’d done so hot, especially when it came to the swimming. The bodysuit was made from a breathable, waterproof material. He’d had to tie his hair back with the bandanna and leave his hat on a bench nearby. Sensors lined the walls and floors, recording the results and his progress.

The physical portion of the test was over in less than an hour. There were a lot of standardized maneuvers he'd have to learn, and his profile reflected as much. At the end of the exercise he was able to watch a holographic avatar of himself dodge and roll clumsily.

He avoided the showers while the rest of his peers bathed, resting in the vestibule outside the massive training room.

“Recruit McCree.” Called Maliyah, giving him a quick wave as she strode into the room. He got to his feet and saluted her clumsily, which only made her snicker. He was certain his hat was on crooked, and his hair was still wet. “You _have_ to work on that. At ease, soldier.” He let his hand fall.

“Somethin’ I can do for you, ma’am?”

“Usually the next step in this process would be to take you out to the shooting range, but I read your file.” She waves the tablet in her hand lightly. “I’ve been advised by my superiors not to put a gun in your hand.”

“S’fair, I guess.” He _had_ shot a handful of Overwatch agents.

“Is it really?” She looked amused. He suddenly felt like he had answered an important question wrong. “I read the report. You were cornered, kid. I’d have done the same thing in your shoes.”

“Huh." And then, putting two and two together: "You want me in the shootin’ range?” She nods, gesturing for her to walk with him. The shooting range is on a lower level, and they stop at the top of the stairs.

“Me and you go down there alone while everyone else rests up. If I don’t come back up, that’s on me.” She starts down the stairs, but he lingers at the top a while, watching her retreating back. She could be the rule-breaking type, sure. But she could also be setting him up. “Not chickening out are you, McCree?”

"Hell naw.” Jesse started down the stairs. He’d take his chances if it meant he got to flex his trigger finger. “Y’all got revolvers down there?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This being jossed is inevitable, but [this woman](https://i.gyazo.com/8c0a2f3b9816d61f617c07853fc246cb.png) standing beside a young McCree is Maliyah.
> 
> If she turns out to be important in the future I may make some adjustments, but I like to work with familiar faces!


	5. Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning for sort of graphic violence this chapter!

As it turned out they _did_ have a revolver for him to use. Overwatch kept a full stock, a wide array of guns arranged in secure cases against the walls: Shotguns, pulse rifles, blasters, and a Kinamura that had Jesse sucking in a breath hard through his teeth.

“Like what you see?” Asked Williams, lingering behind him. He worked his jaw for a moment, at a loss for words. That made his new commanding officer snicker. "Any chance you’ll try out something new? Another handgun might suit you. Maybe even a sniper rifle.” She pointed at the one he had his eye on, but Jesse just shook his head.

“A revolver is all I’ll be needin’, ma’am. I’ve worked with less than this beauty.” He only had eyes for the revolver on display, one with a long barrel. It had seen some use, but stood head and shoulders over Trouble. The woman to his side sighed and unlocked the case so he could get his hands on it. He lifted it almost gingerly, testing the weight in his hand.

“Fine, then.” She walks across the room and waves him over to the door she’d stopped at. “You'd go out on the field with six bullets in your gun?"

“Been doin’ a mighty fine survivin’ that way.” He pauses, and then adds “’Til last week. Matter a’ fact, s’never been an issue since I can reload real fast."

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She entered a passcode longer than he’d ever seen into the access scanner and escorted him down the short hall to the range. It was another wide room, windowless with stalls. The other exits were already blocked off, and he had a feeling she’d locked the door behind them. “Let’s get this finished before your classmates finish their break.”

It was another room lined with sensors, with a wide booth for him to stand in while he shot at training bots. Some of them were still, and others leapt from spot to spot erratically. The headgear and goggles seemed unnecessary, but Williams insisted. When she activated her comm, he could hear her through the earphones. She was all business now, gaze sharp and focused. No sign of the jokester who had lead him down the stairs a few minutes prior.

“How do you prefer to carry?”

 “Leather holster, right hip. Real quick on the draw that way.” Jesse answered, speech shirt and clipped as he focused on feeding ammo into the revolver. He turned off the safety, lined up his targets, and let fly a bullet for each target in front of him. Shooting was as easy as breathing, and he hit all his marks. He was aiming for headshots, only resorting to body-shots when the training bots were moving too erratically. He reloaded, quick and well-practiced. His trainer hummed her approval.

“Says here that you used flashbangs to halt an assault troop, and then hit them with a spray of bullets. How do you do that with a revolver?" He demonstrates instead of answering, reloading and fanning the hammer so fast that his hand is a blur. Three shots hit their mark, and the other three sink into the walls. Another quick reload. “Stick with the flashbangs. You’ll need them if you plan on hitting any targets with that wild spray. You always leave your chest open like that, recruit?”

“Maybe?” Nobody had ever called him on his stance. He missed an easy shot while shifting it and grunted in frustration.

 “We’ll work on that. Now… Commander Reyes tells me you have something to show me?” Of _course_ they were in communication. Jesse knew what she was asking, but if he were going to show off he was going to work up to it.

“Gimmie a minute. I’m fixin’ to give you a show.” He kept shooting, and kept reloading. Training bots went down as quickly as they re-assembled themselves. After another minute or two of shooting things clicked into place. It was a sense more than anything, a sharp edge to his vision and a creeping heat under his skin that told him _Deadeye_ was ready. The air in the room went crisp and dry, light at the edges of his vision. The color drained from his vision but he held off on shooting for a moment so he could focus on his targets. When all shots were lined up he let his volley of bullets fly. The bots fell to pieces like they were programmed to, but reconstituted themselves more slowly than they had before.

He lowered the revolver and pulled of the headgear, taking a look around. A tumbleweed had settled in the corner, and a light dusting of red dirt covered their boots. Maliyah whistles her appreciation when he catches her eye over the tablet. Her grip on it is a little tight but she sounds as casual as before.

“Mn… You are _way_ above my paygrade McCree.” She purses her lips. “I mean, I can see why Reyes wants to pull in talent like yours. You the only one who can do that?”

“Hopin’ so.” She clearly took note of his non-answer and entered something into the holotablet. “I call it Deadeye.”

“Of course you’ve named it.” Williams snorts. “Well, we’ve done what we needed to do today. Your reloading habits and low mobility leave areas like your chest and back vulnerable. We’ll get you fitted for a full chestplate. Otherwise, standard armor should suit your needs.” She passed him a slip, showing him where on campus he could fill his order “Report for training next week, hot shot. Now get outta here before I decide you should sweep up this mess.” Jesse gave her another ill-practiced salute and a toothy smile and she sent him off with a firm pat on the back. He was really going to have to get used to how… touchy these people were.

Jesse made it out of the training session well ahead of his classmates, who were just descending the stairs as he was leaving. He made a stop on the way out to fill his armor order: Several sets of black and orange standards with sleeves of varying lengths, impact boots, a chestplate and torso armor. All packed into a crate that he held with both hands on the way back to his room.

He‘s feeling downright giddy. His stay here would almost certainly be a short one, but if he had free food and could get his mitts on all the guns he wanted it would be a sweet one. They’d _have_ to let him shoot if they wanted to get their money’s worth and if he could take a new revolver with him on his way out waking up early and learning their standard maneuvers wouldn’t be so bad.

Getting caught up in thought turned out to work against him when he noticed people crowding the narrow hallway ahead of him too late to escape notice. Jesse instantly recognized it as a setup, and they’d already spotted him. There was no hiding from the three people ahead of him – two men and a woman, all taller and ready for just about anything in their Overwatch standards. He could see knives in their hip holsters. They aren’t recruits, or if they are they aren’t from his class. They had their badges turned backwards like the dirty cops back in the Gorge.

“Got ‘em!” One of the men mutters, a dirty blonde man with too-large ears. The woman looks familiar, but he can't quite put his finger on where he's seen her. In any case, these were exactly the sort of people he'd been trying to avoid: Folks who didn't think he deserved a place here and were going to make things damn hard for him.

He didn’t have so much as a slingshot and a rock on his person, so he made the prudent decision of turning on his heel and hightailing it – tossing his burden over his shoulder when his ambushers give chase. It slows them down, but not enough to make a real difference. The back hallways are empty this late, and calling out gets no response. It doesn’t take long for them to overtake him and for him to be crowded. An elbow between the shoulder blades forces him to his knees.

“Get the fuck off!” His demand is answered with a fist to the temple that leaves him seeing stars. A fist is balled in his hair and Jesse’s face is bashed against a wall two, three, four times before they let him collapse on his side. His ears are ringing, and breathing is a struggle that only becomes more difficult when a kick hits home at his gut. The steel-toed impact boots that hit him made an impression that he wouldn’t soon forget. Jesse tries to grip at the tile for purchase but his hands are slick with blood he isn’t certain of the source of.

He braces for more hits, but the kicks that should have followed didn't land. There was a commotion above him, but his vision was swimming and head felt too heavy. When hands hooked underneath his arms and lifted him up he didn’t fight, head lolling forward.

“Doesn’t look like he’ll be walkin’ any time soon.”

“Aye. Let’s get ‘em some help.” It sounds like he’s hearing voices through water. Opening his eyes only makes his head throb, but he chances a look at his rescuers before he passes out: A mousy looking ginger with a soul patch and a dark, lanky guy with a shock of bleach-blonde hair. While he's out, Jesse doesn't dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be followed soon after by a much happier, less painful chapter soon!


	6. Jumper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Updated to include the new chatlog style!

Jesse recognized the scratch of starchy fabric against his chin and the scent of sanitizer before he even had the chance to open his eyes. He _had_ only been there hours before, and in much better shape if the painful throb of his ribs meant anything. His head was feeling better, so cracking open his eyes didn’t hurt as much as it had before. Had it been a few minutes ago? Hours, even? It hadn’t been late when they pounced on him – maybe 4 or 5PM. Moving his head too fast brought on a wave of nausea and dizziness, but the clock on the table beside his hospital bed read 12:30 AM in slowly flashing orange letters.

It wasn’t an examination room like he’d been in earlier. He was partitioned off in some corner with no window and dimmed lights. Clean, but kind of claustrophobic. Jesse could hear the low buzz of some machine and the occasional beep. He spent some time just lying there, first testing the damage by flexing his toes and fingers, bending his legs, and trying to sit up. Most parts of his body felt fine – the attackers had really focused on his face and midsection. Sitting up was doable, even if his ribs hurt. His face was sore, but there was no swelling so they must have gotten some good work in while he was conked out.

Jesse felt naked without his hat. The paper gown didn’t help, and without his communicator he had nothing to do. Regardless of how bad he felt he just wasn’t one for waiting around. He jammed his thumb into the button on the bed’s adjustment panel labelled ‘help’ four, five, six times until he heard someone shuffling around in the room outside the curtain partition. He couldn’t say he was surprised to see Dr. Ziegler when the curtains were pulled back. Her hay-gold hair was dark with water wet and pinned back from her face. From the bit of dried drool on her face and wrinkled lab coat it seemed like she might have been getting a cat nap in before he interrupted her.

“Fancy seein’ you again, miss.” Jesse rasped, voice scratchy from lack of use and water. His jaw ached a bit when he talked but it was manageable pain. “Can I trouble you for a drink? Water or whiskey would do fine.”

“Alcohol is detrimental to the development of-” He laid back against his pillows and groaned loudly, interrupting her.

“I was jokin’, doc. Honest!” Her eyebrows shot up and she leaned back. A pretty priceless reaction.

“Joking? Oh, uhm…” And then she was gone, darting out of the enclosed space as fast as he’d ever seen. She returned a minute or so later, looking a little sheepish. He took the water she offered and gulped it down fast. “Sorry, I just don’t meet a lot of people my – our- age often. I… don’t experience a lot of ‘joking around’.” Well, that was a real shame. Not that he couldn’t have fun with that knowledge, especially if he’d be seeing her often.

“Ain’t no kids on the base?”

“There are plenty, but for the most part they’re younger than me... Than us. Some operatives raise families here. Torbjorn has a small army of children – and counting.” That name was familiar. When he worked out exactly who that was, it was his turn to raise an eyebrow.

“The fella with the claw hand?” Who’d have thunk? Not that he wanted to linger on the thought of Torbjorn’s sex life. “Nevermind all’a that. You seen my hat?” Doctor Ziegler nods, slipping behind the curtain and returning a moment later with the hat in her hands. It did his heart good to see it in one piece.

“Here you are! Hold still a moment.” She gently lowered the hat down on his head and straightened it for him. He flashed her a toothy smile that she returned shyly, braces glinting in the low light. Pretty damn cute. “It was recovered along with the rest of the belongings on your person. I’ll leave your communication kit on the nightstand.”

“Thank ya kindly.” So far she’d attended to him twice. Hopefully, they’d make good friends. It was just poor luck that the only other person his age would be some goody-goody genius who could spout off facts about underage drinking and smoking at lighting speed, but he didn’t want his short run with Overwatch to be a lonesome one. “Say… You the only doctor in this joint?”

“Not by far. Only the least tenured!” Ziegler answered too quickly, with a little too much energy for the hour. That she was here told him enough, really: She got the graveyard shift and took care of grunt work like medical examinations since she was the youngest and newest. Apparently, she didn’t want to linger on the subject. “How is the pain?”

“Eh. No worse than a bad hangover or fallin’ off a hoverbike, I suppose.” Continuing quickly, so she wouldn’t start up another lecture: “Not gon’ miss trainin’ next week am I?” As terrible as running drills and more swimming exercises seemed he’d been looking forward to it. Training meant more time with a gun in hand. Not carrying just didn’t feel right, and he’d fight tooth and nail to keep a weapon on his person after this little incident.

“You should make a full recovery in the next two days, and will be on bedrest until tonight.” She puts the tablet down on the bedside table there. “If it weren’t for the two recruits who intervened, you might have seen much worse injuries.”

“I might recall.” Jesse focused on the cup in his hands while he thought hard. Things got a little hazy after he threw his package. “Got picked up by a fella with big hair. Somebody else might’a been wit’ ‘em.”

“Recruits Kumar and McIntyre. Do you remember much else about the attack?”

“Yeah. One of ‘em had a real set of ears.”

“Most people do. Hm…” She reached into her pocket and pulled out one of her implements. Something long and thin with a light at the top. “I thought you were lucid enough to answer questions, but I was mistaken. I should do another examination.” This only drew another exasperated sigh from him.

“A big ass set of ears, doc. He had big ears.” He waved his hands behind his own ears for effect. A sly grin spread across her face, and he realized what was going on a beat too late. “Lookit ya, yankin’ my leg! There’s hope for ya still.” Laughing made his side ache something fierce, but it was nice to see her laugh from behind her hand. When they were finished he offered her the cup and she brought him more water, along with some pain medicine he took with a little difficulty. Swallowing pills always made him gag. She made some entries into her holopad for the next few minutes and was in and out of the space for a few minutes

“I do hate to ruin the mood, but…” She purses her lip and hesitates. “Commander Morrison wants to visit you in the morning. It is my understanding that there may be some friction there, but he has questions about your attack.”

“Aw, what the hell? He’s on base already?” That soured his mood about as quickly as she’d thought it would. “Y’all ever heard of a ‘chain of command’? Li’l stuff like this gets handled by the grunts. The big dogs don’t need to bother with me.” Though his experience with Overwatch so far had been alongside ‘big dogs’, he expected all that to change. Gabriel hadn’t checked in with him personally since the ride over to Zurich.

“It is not ‘little’. An assault on an officer on base is serious.” She holds her holopad to her chest and fixes him with a look of concern. And then, treading lightly. “You… do understand this is very serious. Right?”

“Uh. Yeah?” He wasn’t prepared for that infuriating, lilting tone of concern and pity. “I  mean... I jus’ got jumped. Shit like that happens to everyone.”

“No, it… it really doesn’t, Jesse. It shouldn't, either.” There she went with that damned _tone_ again, using his name like she knew him and handling him with kid gloves. He huffed and turned his head so that he was looking at the wall. The motion made him head throb hard.

“Don’t mind me. M’tired, doc.” It was late. They’d both need their rest for whatever the next day would throw at them. “You best get some rest yourself.” He lifted a hand and waved in the direction of the curtains. Silence hung heavy between them for a moment, and she softly wished him a good night on her way out. He fought through another wave of nausea so he could sit up and pluck the communicator off of the bedstand. The clock there read 1:23 AM.

He went through the messages he’d missed, sending off replies. He had expected most folks to be sleeping by now.

 

 

[McCree] missed 3 messages from [Amari]

[Amari]: Jesse...

[Amari]: I hope this message finds you well. I feel like I am to blame for this, since I was to be looking after you.

[Amari]: Ideally, I would have escorted you to and from your appointments, but I’ve been held up in Geneva. I’ll hurry back as soon as I can.

[McCree]: dont worry none about me maam.ive had worse bumps and someone was bound to rough me up a lil bit

[McCree]: take your time,ill be right as rain by tomorrow

 

 

 

[McCree] missed 3 messages from [Reyes]

[Reyes]: Sorry, kid. Know that they won’t be able to hide for long. I already have the footage.

[Reyes]: Expect a visit from Strike Commander Morrison. Try not to piss him off.

[Reyes]: I'll be leaving for Zurich soon myself. Things are worked out here stateside.

[McCree]: ill try my darnest

[McCree]: so...alla that adoption shit is legit now??

 

 

 

[McCree] has been added to [GROUP CHAT] with [Kumar], [McIntyre]

[McIntyre]: Hey mccree when you get out of the medbay come by the barracks ok

[Kumar]: we have all your Shit!!! lmao

[Kumar]: come thru or ill open this Lootbox and take ur sweet booty. ;)

[McIntyre]: Dont be weird dude

[Kumar]: im jk. take your Time! you looked rough when we picked u up

[McIntyre]: You were pretty out of it when we pulled you out so here's who to look out for:

[McIntyre]: [1 ATTATCHMENT]

[McCree]: suppose youre the fellas who saved my hide?

[McCree]: thanks much.imma be by for my things

 

He opened the attachment, a photo of the two of them: McIntyre, presumably, frowning into the camera while Kumar threw a peace sign over the other man's shoulder. They couldn't have been much older than him - maybe 19 or 20? He’d seen them at orientation and when they’d met Maliyah but hadn't had making friends in mind then. It seemed kind of inevitable, now. Hopefully they were the sort he was used to.

 

 

[McCree] missed 2 messages from [Morrison]

[Morrison]: Doctors Ziegler and Brown tell me you’ll be lucid in the morning.

[Morrison]: Expect me at 0800 sharp.

[McCree]: ill be up,sir

[Morrison]: Good. Be prepared to give some answers.

[Morrison]: Now get some rest, soldier.

 

Morrison answered back immediately, to his surprise.

Jesse opted out of replying back and closed out the messenger, relaxing back into the pillows. He hadn’t been lying about being tired, but tonight sleep evaded him. He put on _The Searchers_ and tried to ignore the sound of Dr. Ziegler shuffling around outside the curtains instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be nice to put some names to faces, especially when it came to McCree’s recruit class and maybe even some future Blackwatch associates! OCs appear in abundance and will help move things along, but canon characters and their stories come first.
> 
> I promise you all some fluff soon. Thanks for reading!


	7. No Moss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is long - it got away from me!  
> [Here's a sketch of McIntyre and Kumar!](https://68.media.tumblr.com/df65611d2e9725bebc7a32394cea6aca/tumblr_okfkfcaOyJ1qjri8no2_r1_500.png)

Sleep came to him unbidden sometime in the night, and when Jesse came to a few hours later Dr. Ziegler had long since gone. Instead he was left in the care of one Dr. Brown, a round older woman with soft jowls and clammy hands that she laid gently on his forehead while she shined a light into his eye. It was thanks to her poking and prodding and the shot she deemed necessary that he was awake just short of 8AM. His legs were stiff when he stood up, but moving his head didn’t make him feel ill any more. His face was still sore and bruised. Jesse had time to take a piss, wash his face and have a sip of water before Morrison showed up.

With the curtains pulled back he could see the room he was in wasn’t big. There were other hospital beds, partitions drawn back so he could see there was nobody else there. Brown went out just as Morrison came in. Jesse sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the bed watching the man make his way over. It was a slight thing but Jesse could tell the Commander was favoring one leg as he approached, come bearing a cup of coffee and datapad. He didn't hold a candle to Reinhardt but the Strike Commander was no small man. He thought he might be starstruck or feel anxious about Morrison’s approach but the veil had long-since been lifted. The ‘legendary’ Strike Commander was just some tired-looking old guy who apparently wore one of those goofy combat visors all the time.

“Mornin’.” Jesse puffed out his chest and gave an honest try at a salute. It must have passed for decent because Morrison didn’t remark upon it, only dropping the datapad he carried in on the nightstand.

"That’s ‘mornin’ Strike Commander Morrison to you." The Commander’s voice wasn’t easy on the ears. Only Gabriel’s stern warning from last night kept him from remarking upon it, and even then it was a struggle. “At ease, soldier. How goes recovery?”

“Jus’ sore now, sir. ’Preciate the concern.” He slouched over, letting his arms hang over his knees. Jesse felt a little exposed in nothing but a thin hospital gown.

"Don’t mention it." Said Morrison flatly, hanging back a few steps from the bed. It’d be hard _not_ to notice how Morrison gave him a wide berth, even though he was unarmed and wearing nothing but a hat and a hospital gown. In any other context it wouldmake a huge boost to his confidence, but right now it was just irritating. “I’m here because I need you to know I don’t condone this attack, Jesse. No soldier should go though this sort of incident on his home base.”

"Huh. Thought you'd have some hard feelins after the whole shootin’ ya thing." Morrison only grunted and fixed him with a hard stare. He’d be hard pressed not to be a little intimidated, but lifted his chin and glared right back.

"If it were up to me you'd be behind bars. I've seen what you can do to people who _aren't_ enhanced. Age is no excuse for _that_.” Jesse couldn’t even be sure what, in specific, the man was making reference to. He’d been pretty damn busy in the last three years.

“You fixin’ to give me the boot?”

“Unfortunately? No.” Too early for relief. Morrsion clearly wasn’t finished. "Commander Reyes is working himself ragged on this project– he even cancelled a vacation for your benefit. I wouldn’t undo his hard work.”

“I ain’t no project.” Jesse crossed his arms over his chest, still glaring at the Commander.

“Sass me again and I’ll roll you back to restriction class F, recruit. No internet access, no rec rooms.” Jesse only scowled at the man in response. Morrison wasn’t looking at him any longer, taking a moment to work something out of his back pocket and offer it to him. Small, black, sleek. A taser? “You need to know this isn’t a game. Show me you're worth half the effort Gabe… Commander Reyes is putting in. Be responsible with that."

“You askin’ me not to go around tazin’ folks at random?” Jesse snatched it from Morrison’s large hand and experimented with it for a moment, listening to the hard click and watching the bright flicker of electricity. “I _guess_ I can handle it.”

“Great. We _do_ have more to discuss. It wouldn’t be worth my time otherwise.” Morrison hooked a thumb in the direction of the datapad on the table, and Jesse scooted over on the bed so he could pick it up. "Two of your attackers have been identified.”

“That didn’t take too long.” He whistled, then swiped through shots of blurry footage and what looked like arrest papers and photographs of two of his attackers. There was nothing on his third attacker, really. Just a blurry photo of a small woman with dark hair in a bun. “So the lady is on the lam?” Morrison nodded.

“They aren't giving up information on the third attacker readily. Anything notable about her?" Jesse just shook his head.

“I recall thinkin’ I’d seen her ‘round these parts, but that’s all I got.” Jesse scratched at the scruff on his own chin. “You talk to them other recruits? Kumar ‘n McIntyre. They was there.”

“They were interviewed about the incident yesterday.” Hopefully it wasn’t too rough on them. They didn’t seem like bad guys. “The attackers confirmed your actions in Deadlock Gorge as their motive. I will be making an internal statement on the incident, but I can’t guarantee there won’t be more attacks like this. I expect you to defend yourself. I know you’re more than capable.”

“S’that all you came for? You can go ‘head ‘n leave if you want.” Jesse had been expected to be grilled harder on what went down but Reyes _did_ say they had footage. It hardly seemed worth it for the Strike Commander himself to come down and see him for so little. The Commander only raised an eyebrow in reply.

“I dismiss you, son. You don’t dismiss me.” Jesse wrinkled his nose at 'son'. The man gave him another hard, appraising look while he sipped his coffee. “I’ll blame that on the head injury. Next time I see you I expect a proper salute and a uniform. No ridiculous cowboy hat, and no more hospital gowns.” Jesse only grunted in reply. It was all he could do to keep himself from telling the Strike Commander that they’d have to pry the hat out of his cold, dead hands before he went without.

* * *

After the Strike Commander left Jesse turned on his comm visor and checked the replies to the messages he’d sent in the night: An apologetic Ana telling him she’d see him soon, a fourth person being added to the group chat, and Gabriel assuring him that their legal status as father and son was legitimate and telling him to go to bed.

He spent most of the rest of his day bored, switching between napping and being prodded at by Dr. Brown. He didn’t see Dr. Ziegler again. The other doctor didn’t have any answers when he asked about where she could be at this time of day. After Dr. Brown left in the evening another doctor declared him fit ad a fiddle. He re-dressed in the bodysuit to leave but dropped by his room to change and eat some pork rinds. There was no way in hell he’d be making a social call in that thing. He changed into one of the flannels Ana had brought for him and a pair of blue jeans. The whole getup was a little plain for his tastes but at least he had his hat.

The barracks weren’t difficult to find since they were on the same level as his private room, and not far. The recruits were lodged in a large, open space with rows of bunk beds and a common area at its center. It wasn't hard to find the people he was looking for when he reached the barracks since there were few others there.

“Not too late for pickup am I?” He greeted, sweeping his arms out from his side and successfully getting the attention of the two men hanging out in the common area. There was a third member to their group, a round girl with short black hair and glasses. She waved eagerly as he approached and he tipped his hat.

“Aw hell, he lived! Now I gotta give up my booty.” Kumar planted his hands on his hips and laughed at his own joke. The guy had a southern accent thick enough to rival Jesse’s and was wearing more body glitter than he’d ever seen on a person before.

“Sorry if’n I kept y’all waitin’.” The McIntyre peered hard at his face while he spoke. The bruises wouldn’t be gone for a few days so he couldn’t blame the guy for staring.

“McCree, hm? You don’t _look_ like a McCree.” From the ginger. Jesse scowled openly.

“S'my name. You can get fucked, Weasley.” That got a laugh out of McIntyre, who clapped him on the back amicably. They sure got comfortable with people fast, no posturing and fighting like with Deadlocks. He turned to face their new companion, the young woman. “Hey there missy.”

“Hello! I love your hat.” She answered, so chipper and genuine that he was taken aback. The patch on her jumpsuit read ‘Zhou’. “We’re in the same class. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but you were gone so fast.”

“That right? Thanks much.” Jesse said with a chuckle. He headed for the couches there and his company followed. They made their introductions shortly. McIntyre, Craig he learned, was the prickly sort but it was clear he was glad to see him still kicking. Kumar preferred to go by his last name and was from Bowie, Maryland. They were both combat, rank-and-file like him. Mei-Ling was a researcher and would only be with them for the basic combat portion of their training. Even Overwatch scientists had to be prepared for a fight.

Jesse sank back into the couch, surprisingly comfortable with it and his company. The couch they chose was a plush, golden-yellow thing that could easily fit all four of them. Mei and Craig sat on either side of him and Kumar went with leaning over the back of the couch, raining glitter down on Mei. She didn't seem to mind it at all. The four of them stayed that way for quite some time, talking about orientation: How grueling the combat profile sessions were, how difficult the interview with suits like Howell had been, and the massive amounts of pamphlets they’d been saddled with. When questions between the four of them turned personal of course they asked how old he was, and though he had a mind to lie he admitted he was only sixteen. They might not have bought it in any case. He was scrawny and a little on the short side, with only a few patchy hairs on his chin. Like he’d guessed they weren’t much older than him: Mei and Kumar were nineteen, and Craig was twenty-two. The rest of their peers were much older so it made sense that they’d stick together.

"You had the one-on-one session with Williams, right? What did you _do_?” Mei was a chipper sort, but her question had an unexpectedly accusatory edge. “We had to wait twenty whole minutes for the training robots to re-calibrate after you left!"

"We were trying to ask you about that when we ran into you getting jumped, actually. That and see if you wanted to grab dinner with us." Added Craig. Apparently all the news about him hadn't trickled down the ranks just yet. Good.

“I’ll show y’all sometime.” He added a wink and was just about to push the brim of his hat up for effect but found it was being lifted off his head by Kumar.

“Do you _always_ wear this?” Kumar turned the hat over in his hands once before it was snatched back. “I guess it’s not as weird as wearin' chaps all the time. Met a guy who did that once.” The chaps thing didn’t sound like a bad idea.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t go gettin’ glitter all over my hat!” It was too late for the hat – glitter was stuck to the brim where Kumar had touched it.

“You must have permanent hat hair!” Mei supplied. Jesse realized then that he needed to change the subject quickly before they started asking annoying questions about his getup.

"Met the Strike Commander this mornin'. Anybody ever warn y'all 'bout his voice?" Mei snickered behind her hand, but Kumar looked incredulous. That did the trick.

“What do you mean ‘warn’? Every late night talk show host in the world has taken a potshot at ‘em.” Craig sounded almost confused by his lack of knowledge on the subject.

"Have you been living under a rock?" Mei pulled out a personal holopad and pulled up a video of Morrison giving a speech, synced up to lines from scratchy-voiced fictional characters. There were more than he could count in the related video section. "It's _the_ oldest joke on the web right now. Still hilarious too!” With a lack of regular net access back home he'd apparently been missing a lot.

“Guessin’ I need to play catchup then.” Maybe he’d start a blog. Writing didn't sound so bad.

“Don’t worry! I’ll show you all the memes over dinner.” Mei offered. Craig and Kumar might have saved his ass, but he was taking a shining to Mei. She stood and offered him a hand up. Beside him Craig stood and stretched.

“Lookin’ forward to it. Won’t the mess hall be closin’ real soon?” Jesse asked. It was getting close to nine, when they stopped serving dinner. He had some food stashed away in his room that he’d planned on eating after he got his things.

"We're going off base to get some non-regulation food and drink, if you catch my drift.” Kumar said with a wink. A little whiskey and something greasy to wash it down with sounded heavenly after nearly a week of nothing but lightweight health foods and chicharones.

“I’m dyin’ for a drink, but I’m not allowed t’leave base.”

“I guess that makes sense. You’re so young you’d need a permission slip.” Craig joked, scratching at his chin a moment. “I feel kinda bad for you. Sticking around here with naught to do sounds like a hell. Throw my flask in with his junk, Kumar.”

“Gotcha!” Kumar hurried off somewhere towards the beds, presumably to get what Jesse had come for.

“Make that a pack of smokes and I’ll do a dance for y’all.” He called after Kumar's retreating back. Mei doubled over laughing at that one.

“Be careful with that! This crowd might hold you to it.” She said between giggles. After this long without nicotine? He just might do it.

Kumar returned with the box in tow pushed the box of into Jesse’s arms a moment later. On top of it, a flask and half-empty pack of menthols balanced on top of it. The armor box itself was duct-taped back together, pieces of armor and cloth hanging out of the cracks. “I promise we didn’t try to steal your gear. The thing came apart and I’m not sure it can be put back together.”

“Ain’t a problem. Real glad to have it back.” It looked like they were eager to go eat, so he excused himself. “Thanks for the goodies ‘n savin’ my ass. I’ll be seein’ y’all.” They said their goodbyes, told him to be safe and parted ways after that.

 

Alone in the halls again, he was very aware of the tazer in his back pocket. Even with it he felt naked and unprotected, spending the entire walk looking over his shoulder. He rushed back into his room and locked the door behind himself. The lights were out but the door to the lit bathroom was cracked open and afforded him a little light.

By it he noticed the large, hooded figure slouched in his desk chair - too late for him to turn tail without being noticed. Jesse threw his burden to the ground so hard it burst again, armor and metal parts of the box clanging loudly against the floor. He had the tazer in his hand in a flash - not as quick as he’d be with a gun, but fast enough. He brandished it in front of him. The figure shot up from the chair and grumbled.

“I’ll light yer ass up if you don’t get!” Jesse shouted.

“Touch me with that and you’ll regret it, punk.” _Oh._

He recognized that voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A surprise guest! We know that, chronologically, Mei is a few years older than McCree. It would make sense for her to be a new recruit around this age, and I love having familiar faces around!. They'll be running in different circles sometimes, but we'll always have somebody we know around.
> 
> I'm sure we all know who our mysterious visitor is, but the next installment will bring some answers!


	8. Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how long this one took! Life really got complicated, haha.  
> Things should go more quickly after this - and be about this fluffy if not fluffier.

The urge to lay down on the first horizontal surface he encountered was strong, but Gabriel had never been one to shirk his duties. He needed to check in on his charge before he did any resting... especially after the _incident_ that represented a piss-poor start for him as a guardian and mentor for Jesse.

A poorer start? Losing him. Gabriel had just barely missed him being discharged from medical, and stopping by his room yielded the same results: No boy, just a dark and empty dorm. Gabriel was too tired to chase him down, and the chance of him escaping in such a short timeframe was astronomically low. Still…

“Athena, locate recruit McCree and report on any potential threats.” He pressed two fingers to his earpiece and activated it. He wasn’t fond of AI systems but Athena had proved herself useful for monitoring the movements of agents on base. She made his job much simpler.

“Recruit McCree entered the zone four barracks at 20:23 and has remained there since. He is accompanied by agents McIntyre, Zhou and Kumar. No threats to Agent McCree observed.” Many names passed across his desk but he remembered McIntyre and Kumar – the recruits who interrupted the attack. If his memory wasn’t failing him Zhou was a researcher completing her basic training. The boy was safe in their company and likely just making friends with other young recruits.

Gabriel flicked on the lights and looked the room over. There wasn’t much in the way of belongings other than what must have been a full shipments worth of porkrinds and a few scant articles of clothing. Seemed like a talk about proper nutrition was in order. That, and a shopping trip.

He cut the lights and took a seat at the desk. Gabriel entertained the thought of unpacking his datapad and getting some work done, but _only_ the thought. Instead he pulled up his hood and put his head down, seeing no use in wasting precious rest time. Jesse could wake him whenever he decided to show up. He was jetlagged and bone-tired after spending most of the week pulling favors and filing paperwork. Despite how tired he was sleep didn’t come to him easily. Instead he hovered in a cloudy state of half-sleep, senses dulled of everything but the sensation of his cheek pressed against cool lacquered wood.

Gabriel couldn’t have had his eyes closed for more than ten minutes when the door slipped open and he started to rouse to the sound of shouting. He was on his feet before he even registered the movement consciously, years of training spurring him into quick motion.

“Touch me with that and you’ll regret it, punk.” He was  _not_ in the mood to get tased. Jesse stood with his shoulders hunched and eyes wide, looking small and radiating shock. The kid put on a brave face but there was no mistaking raw fear in his reaction. It wasn't one he liked - Gabriel had never ruled by fear and definitely didn’t want to make the kid feel worse.

“Dag-fuckin’-nabbit!” His moment of shock passed quickly. Jesse threw the taser against the floor and it resounded with a crackling sound as it clattered away under the bed. Not a moment later he flicked on the lights and whipped around to face Gabriel. “This how you spend your time, huh? Lurkin’ in dark rooms, tryin’ to scare the bejesus out of poor unsuspectin’ fools?”

"Anybody ever tell you everything you say sounds hilarious?" Gabriel offered. Jesse scowled up at him and crossed his arms. If he was sensitive about his accent he’d leave that alone in the future. "Nevermind that. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was getting a nap in while waiting for you to get back. It’s late."

"Damn right it's late. They ain’t give your own room t’ nap in, Mister bigshot?" Gabriel pulled his hood down and took a careful and slow step forward so he could get a better look at the boy’s face – minding Jesse’s space. No sense in scaring him again.

"No. They didn’t give me a statue either.” Gabriel paused while looking him over. Despite much of his face being discolored with bruises but he didn't seem to be in pain. His hair was still wild and too long – something else to take care of soon. Jesse was still in one piece and had likely had worse scrapes, but Gabriel still felt guilty. "We need to talk some things over. Clean this mess up first, recruit."

“Fine, fine,” Jesse grumbled about it under his breath but complied, picking up the armor and clothing on the floor. "What about?"

"Just wanted to check in. See the damage for myself and take care of anything you might need." Gabriel sat on the edge of the lower bunk, careful not to disturb Jesse's belongings there. “This room is looking pretty empty. A man has to have possessions.”

“I can find what I need easy. I don’t need no handholdin’.”

“Apparently, you do. Don’t think I didn’t notice how fast the credits I gave you went.” He gestured to the pile of junk food behind him on the lower bunk. “You’ll never grow if you only eat shit. Food is free in the mess.”

“I might start goin’. Met some other recruits who'll go in with me.” The boy said as he hefted an armful of his belongings onto the bed.

“Good. Another thing… It looks like you behaved yourself without Ana or I around. Followed the rules, made it to your appointments. As a reward you can keep the dorm." Jesse’s brows shot up and he fumbled with the impact boot in his hands. In truth Gabriel would have let him keep the dorm even if he had misbehaved. Ana had given him a lengthy talk about a boy Jesse's age needing some privacy.

“Huh?” Jesse looked around like he was seeing the room for the first time, laying down his burden and turning to face Gabriel. “Well, uh. Thank you kindly?” _That_ was more like it.

“Thank Captain Amari when you see her. I’ve given you additional funds so you can order whatever you need from the catalog. Custom armor, civvies, decorations, more hats. Just no more junk food.” Jesse didn’t respond, only removed his hat and worried the brim in his hands. He was quiet for so long that Gabriel started to worry himself. "You alright?"

“Yeah, yeah... I’m… real gracious, boss. Not just fer the credits but for everythin’, I suppose. Not bein’ in prison and all this.” Boss. He liked the sound of ‘boss’. "Never imagined it would all be so nice."

“You’re welcome, Jesse. All I ask is if for that sort of respect." Gabriel considered undoing all of Jesse’s hard work by clearing off the lower bunk and going to sleep right there… but Jesse would need his privacy. Instead he stood up, stretched, and made for the open door. “I’ll see you in the morning. And, Jesse?”

“Yessir?”

“It won’t happen again. You’re safe here, son.” _That_ was a slip of the tongue, one he regretted immediately. He closed the door behind himself hastily, catching Jesse’s perplexed expression for a moment before he hurried down the corridor.

 

* * *

 

The walk from recruit’s quarters room to the senior officer private quarters was long, and his eagerness to get to bed made it seem even longer. By the time he made it to the private quarters he was certain he was swaying on his feet. He did have his own quarters but rarely slept there - the room wasn't even customized and only held a few of his own articles of clothing. The door to Jack’s room was unlocked – an open invitation for him.

Jack's bed was empty but he could hear the shower running. Gabriel pulled his hoodie and undershirt over his head, discarded them in a chair, and then collapsed face first into the bed. Jack preferred a softer mattress than he was used to but they had the same taste in silk sheets and pillowcases. Not having to tie up his hair was convenient at the end of a long day like this.

Finally allowed to rest he drifted in and out of sleep, half-dreaming. He couldn't be bothered to lift his head when the bed dipped behind him and a warm body pressed against his back. He didn’t mind the soothing kisses against his temple but was finally roused by water droplets from Jack’s wet hair dripping onto his cheek. He groaned deep in his throat and turned his head away from the onslaught.

"Jack, please. M'trying to sleep..."

"Just a little chat.” Jack pressed another kiss to his jaw. Gabriel rolled over onto his back cracked open one eye to look up at the other man. Jack settled in closer under the covers and laid his head against Gabriel’s chest. "Did you visit McCree?”

“’Course.” he slurred, sleep-drunk. “He looked like shit.”

“Yeah… It really hit home for me when I saw him in medical. He really is just a kid. Without a gun he’s pretty defenseless so I gave him a taser.”

“Mmhm, I know. He almost tased _me_.”

“Really? Sorry about that. I told him to handle it responsibly bu… Wait,wait, no. Did you do that fucking _thing_?” Gabriel lifted his head a little to look down at Jack.

“What are you talking about?”

“The thing you always do. Did you break in and fall asleep?”

“No? A little… Yeah. How is going through an unlocked door breaking in?” Gabriel waved the hand that wasn’t trapped under Jack’s body dismissively. “That’s not as bad as me slipping up and calling him _son_ to his face.”

“Like it or not Gabe, you _are_ a parent now.”

“Ha! As much as you are. Does Angela ever call you dad?”

“No, but I wouldn’t mind it. We aren't as close as we could be.”

“Yeah, well... we can talk about the… our, uh. Our kids in the morning. Feels weird to say it aloud, right?” Jack guffawed at that, shoulders shaking with laughter while he pressed his cheek into Gabriel’s chest.

“I'm not tired yet. Took a long midday nap. Want me to play you out?”  Gabriel could only nod gently, finally letting his head fall back against the pillow. Jack talking him to sleep was another of their routines, telling him about his day and other news. That low, rumbling voice lulled him to sleep every time he had difficulty resting. It might have been the sort of voice most people found rough and grating but it was always just what he needed to sleep peacefully.


End file.
